


Nothing but Silence

by GrayceAdamsArchive



Series: Speak Now [3]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Fake Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, One-Shot, POV Change, UST, excerpt, fake married, fake married trope, theyre idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayceAdamsArchive/pseuds/GrayceAdamsArchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There was a faint rushing noise and a pop, and then nothing but silence.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing but Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Another Peter POV chapter of HYP for an ask game on tumblr <3

He’d hoped to avoid this, to avoid putting Miggs in a situation he knew the man would be uncomfortable with.

Peter grabbing Miggs and pushing him up against the nearest wall, hitching his knee up by Peter’s hip while Peter buried his face in Miggs’ throat to make it look like they were necking in the dark was probably not on the list of things Miggs would find  _ comfortable.  _ Still, they had a cover to keep, and sometimes that meant putting on a show of intimacy that Miggs didn’t actually want with Peter.

Peter was temporarily distracted by the warmth of the crook of Miggs’ shoulder, the faint smell of dry erase markers and engine grease that always seemed to cling to his friend, nearly impossible to detect under the vaguely-chemical smell of Miggs’ shampoo. But after a second, Peter realized that Miggs was just standing there, stiff and awkward and silent, and definitely not looking like someone getting off with their spouse in a dark hallway.

Peter lifted his head away from Miggs’ neck to give him a pointed look, squeezing Miggs’ hip and thigh in an attempt to encourage him into faking any sign that they weren’t snooping and just a couple on their honeymoon too impatient to get back to their room.

“What?” Miggs whispered, brow furrowed and a hint of a scowl turning the corners of his mouth down. Peter let out a frustrated growl and rolled his eyes, letting go of Miggs’ hip to slide his fingers into Miggs’ curls instead. They were just as soft and thick as he remembered from their fall on the bathroom floor, clinging to Peter’s fingers as he made a fist and pulled hard enough to have Miggs tilt his head to the side so Peter could get at his throat.

Miggs gasped and Peter let out a frustrated noise, hoping Miggs could forgive him for the sake of the mission. Miggs arched into Peter when he licked up the column of Miggs’ throat, tracing from the collar of Miggs’ shirt to his pulse point, which fluttered against Peter’s tongue for a second before he pressed a kiss to Miggs’ skin and then bit down. Miggs moaned, loud and clearly sexual as Peter sucked at his throat to make a bruise, Miggs’ hips pressing forward to grind against Peter. 

Peter’s stomach leapt with a sudden burst of liquid arousal, heat pooling low in his body as Miggs clung to him and whimpered, practically melting into Peter with an eagerness that had Peter’s libido sitting up and taking notice. Peter caught himself thrusting up against Miggs’ crotch before he could stop himself, cock thickening in his pants rapidly when Miggs tightened his grip on Peter’s shoulders.

“Oh, God,” Miggs gasped, pressing impossibly closer to Peter, head tilted down submissively, baring his throat to Peter, who took the invitation gladly. Peter’s mouth roamed along the line of Miggs’ throat, kissing and dragging his tongue over soft, freckled skin, biting down near the crook of Miggs’ shoulder to eagerly suck another hickey.  _ “Peter! _ ”

Peter growled and tightened his grip in Miggs’ hair and on his hip, not wanting Miggs to push him away, though all Miggs seemed intent on doing was pulling him  _ closer,  _ arms wrapping tight around Peter’s shoulders and fingers fisting into the hair on the back of Peter’s head. Miggs moaned wantonly as Peter mouthed at his throat, his hips pressing forward against Peter’s stomach as Peter bucked up against him, cock hard in his pants and arousal pulsing through him as he was  _ finally  _ allowed to touch this man, pull him in and kiss him, grind against him, make him moan and gasp Peter’s name—

A delicate cough made Miggs stiffen, and Peter’s eyes went wide as he realized he’d nearly forgotten why they were rutting like teenagers against a wall in the first place.

“Pardon the interruption, sirs,” a feminine voice said from behind Peter, carefully neutral but stern, “but the resort rules clearly state there is to be no sexual activity outside of your hotel room. I must ask you to please return there now, this area is restricted.”

Miggs’ breath was coming a little quick, but Peter couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or fear, and his face was arranged into an awkward mask of confusion.

“But, um, isn’t this the way to the boardwalk?” he asked, voice unsteady and rough, the sound of it making Peter fight the urge to tighten his grip on Miggs’ hips. “We were, uh, going to the beach and, um…got…distracted.” Miggs’ cheeks darkened and he ducked his head, hiding briefly against Peter’s shoulder and only strengthening Peter’s urge to pull him in closer and keep touching him.

“Oh, no, you must have gotten turned around in the dark,” the woman behind Peter said, and Peter had a brief moment of relief as she took the lie. “The boardwalk is two entries down. This the private offices of the staff. There’s usually a rope, but we take it down at night so Mr. Keller won’t trip on it.”

“Oh,” Miggs said, face still flushed as Peter reluctantly pulled back, turning to face the woman, the same that had been manning the front desk when they’d passed it. He gave her a charming but sheepish grin, biting his lip as his fingers lingered on Miggs’ hip like any lust-struck newlywed.

The attendant smiled and waved them ahead of her, and Miggs quickly made to obey, and Peter kept pace with him, turning left as they departed the restricted area.

Peter slid an arm around Miggs’ waist to pull him close and nuzzle into his hair as he watched the attendant out of the corner of his eye. She was standing in front of the restricted hall with her arms crossed, frowning a little before turning and vanishing down it, leaving Peter to keep cuddling Miggs with the flimsy excuse of making sure she didn’t follow them.

“So I guess we’re going to the beach for a while,” Miggs said under his breath as they walked down the boardwalk, shoes loud on the planks. Peter nodded, blowing out a breath as he pulled away from Miggs to give him an irritated look. “What? It was the only thing I could think of and it’s not like  _ you  _ were coming up with ideas.” Miggs scowled and Peter rolled his eyes, letting go of Miggs’ waist to hold his hand instead as they went down the stairs to the beach itself. Miggs wasn’t wrong, Peter hadn’t offered up any excuse as to why they were making out in that particular hallway, but it would have been nice to go straight back to the hotel room rather than come down to the beach to kill time that could be better spent sleeping or writing up a report for O.W.C.A. on what they’d found.

“You totally would have gotten caught if I hadn’t been there,” Miggs said after a second, glaring down at his feet when Peter turned to look at him, lifting an eyebrow, but Miggs didn’t seem to notice. 

Miggs pulled Peter to a stop and then kicked off his shoes, bending down to pull off his socks and then pick both pairs up, tucking the socks into his shoes to hold them by the heel in one hand. Peter quickly copied him, noting the amount of sand that was creeping into his own shoes as he kicked them and his socks off before picking them up. Miggs held his hand out when Peter walked closer, and even though there probably weren’t any cameras to watch them out here, let alone any people out at this time of night, Peter tangled their fingers together gladly, a warm feeling swelling in his chest as they resumed walking hand in hand.

“And you probably wouldn’t have looked in the files in time to find out about them filming everyone having sex,” Miggs added, sounding smug. Peter let out a soft grumble and admitted nothing, the corner of his mouth furthest from Miggs twitching up in amusement so he couldn’t see. Miggs’ mouth was curving up at the corners as well when Peter glanced at him, the man’s posture relaxed and just the smallest bit proud in a way Peter hadn’t ever seen before.

“Admit it,” Miggs insisted, and Peter growled, playfully pushing at Miggs so he’d stumble. “Hey, fuck you, I’m the only reason we’re not sitting in Keller’s dungeon right now.” Peter groaned and rolled his eyes up towards the sky, prompting Miggs to glower at him.

“What? Some villains have dungeons,” he said defensively, and Peter turned to look at him, lifting one eyebrow questioningly. “No,  _ I _ don’t have one, I rent my place, you know that.” Peter smirked and nodded, thinking of the modest warehouse Miggs rented for his moonlighting as Professor Mystery. Miggs probably  _ was  _ the only reason their cover hadn’t been blown, but that didn’t mean he had to admit that. Kicking one foot sideways through the sand to throw it at Miggs, Peter grinned when Miggs yelped.

“Hey, fuck you, I just got all this shit off a couple hours ago!” Miggs jumped back out of the way as Peter grinned and kicked more sand at him. Trying to dodge out of the way again, Miggs slipped and fell, his tight grip on Peter’s hand dragging Peter along.

Miggs fell head and shoulders into the surf, splashing Peter in the face and chest where he landed on his hands and knees above Miggs. Peter stared as Miggs pushed himself up onto his elbows, sputtering and soaked from mid-torso up, looking a lot like a suddenly wet cat, bedraggled and shocked.

Miggs’ eyes narrowed and his mouth pressed into a thin line, and Peter immediately started trying to school his face into something that wasn’t amused by the hilarious  image his friend presented. The man beneath him saw through him an instant though, scowling.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole, this is your fault,” Miggs growled, swiping a hand through the water next to him to splash Peter full in the face. Peter lost the battle to remain stoic and collapsed to one side of Miggs, laughing from deep in his chest, full throated and loud. Peter laughed until his stomach hurt, the ache nearly erased by a warm feeling that spread through his body like candlelight.

Peter gasped when Miggs threw himself at Peter, catching him by surprise in the way only his nemesis ever seemed to, and pushing his head down under the surface.

There was a faint rushing noise and a pop, and then nothing but silence.

Peter came back up gasping, staring at Miggs in a way that must have betrayed his panic, since Miggs immediately let go of him and backed away as Peter dug his fingers into his ears to pull two small, oblong hearing aids from his ear canals and inspect them. Both were shot, the full-on dunk in the water killing the only semi-waterproof aids.

Peter looked up to see Miggs staring at him, mouth moving as he spoke, but Peter heard nothing, just silence, like cotton wool had been wrapped around his head so many times that not even a scream would have been audible to him. Miggs’ eyes flicked to Peter’s hand where he cradled the aids though, and that told Peter more than enough.

Peter sighed and looked away, knowing what Miggs had asked without having to hear the words. He nodded, clenching his fist around the aids and struggling not to try and crush them out of frustration.

He hadn’t wanted Miggs to know. Peter was well aware of how people saw him when they knew he was deaf, when they knew he was broken more than his muteness and glasses let on.

Peter blinked when Miggs reached out to touch his chin, bringing his face up to look at Miggs. He was biting his lip, looking nervous and uncertain, glancing between Peter’s face and his aids. Peter waited for the questions, the awkward excuses, the tension that would come and make it so after they got back, Miggs would talk to him less and less until they didn’t talk at all.

The thought made Peter want to curl in on himself, something thick and cold knotting in his stomach until he felt nauseas.

Miggs’ mouth moved, and Peter tiredly paid close attention to the shape and movement, picking out words automatically.

_ Sorry if broke them,  _ was all Peter caught, and he shrugged, looking away before miming putting on a hat, glancing at Miggs and catching  _ Ow- _ something and nodding. The aids were provided to Peter by O.W.C.A., and he wouldn’t be charged to have them replaced, especially since their malfunction had been an accident.

Peter stared down at his lap as Miggs shifted slightly, probably about to get up, leave Peter, walk back to the hotel and leave Peter to figure out what to do now on his own.

But instead Miggs’ fingers just slid along Peter’s jaw, cupping his face to turn Peter to face him. Miggs was biting his lip, still looking a little uncertain, glancing down before looking at Peter again and speaking, slow enough that Peter could catch the words.

_ You didn’t want to tell me,  _ Miggs said, and Peter shook his head, turning away to push the broken aids into his pocket before reaching up to push his soaked hair out of his face. When Peter looked back, Miggs was unbuttoning his shirt, fingers fumbling down his front. Peter wondered what the hell Miggs was doing as he pulled off his shirt and threw it higher up on the beach, out of reach of the water before grabbing the hem of his undershirt and peeling that off as well to join it.

Peter raked his eyes down over Miggs’ torso, taking in sparse body hair and wiry muscle and a bit of softness in Miggs’ stomach, dark skin dotted with darker freckles. His breath was coming a little quick with fear, if Peter was reading his face right when he looked back up.

_ You didn’t want to tell me,  _ Miggs said again, intentionally mouthing the words clearly.  _ So this…this—something I didn’t want—tell you.  _ Peter blinked, reaching out to stop Miggs, not wanting him to feel like he had to tell Peter anything he didn’t want to regardless of circumstance, but before he could, Miggs had turned around and sat with his legs crossed, his back to Peter.

Peter knew Miggs could move with grace. That he could duck and dodge and run, could bend and twist and move in ways that spoke of having done gymnastics or dancing years in his past.

But Miggs also moved like he was hurting, a stiffness making him pause before major movements, making him tense when he twisted too far, when he arched beyond a certain point.

Peter had wondered at the source, but eventually put it down to an uncomfortable bed, not enough sleep, and poor exercise regimen outside their nemesis battles.

Peter’s fingers shook a little the first time he reached out to touch the skin of Miggs’ back, and he clenched his fist to still them before trying again. He brushed his fingers at the top of Miggs spine, making him twitch. Peter pulled back, uncertain, but then Miggs curled down into his own lap to lay with his back exposed to Peter, bathed in moonlight. Peter hesitantly touched again, and Miggs didn’t visibly protest, so he slowly traced his fingers down the line of Miggs’ spine, which was clearly paler than the rest of his skin, a long, surgical scar running from between his shoulder blades to his tail bone, a few other neat incisions criss-crossing over his spine at a few points. Down in the small of Miggs’ back was a thick knot of scarring, like something had landed on him and cut through him partially, sending a starburst of warped skin splintering out in long, narrow scars, the skin of his back looking a little wrinkled and tight, like melted plastic.

Miggs shivered when Peter’s touch reached the bottom of his spine, and he found himself wondering when someone had last seen Miggs’ back other than a doctor, let alone touched him outside of a clinical setting.

Peter put both hands on Miggs’ lower back, palms pressed to his skin as he slowly slid up the length of Miggs’ back to his shoulders, and then down again, feeling every inch of Miggs’ skin, touching him from neck to belt and everywhere in between, slow, broad strokes of Peter’s hands tracing over Miggs’ body until he was nearly trembling under Peter’s touch. Peter wanted to do more, to dig his thumbs in and massage, work out the tense line Miggs’ back always seemed to cut, wanted to lightly drag his fingertips over every swirl and whorl on Miggs’ skin, wanted to lean in and kiss Miggs’ body until he felt only pleasure.

But Peter knew that here, when they were both vulnerable and not being the team O.W.C.A. had sent in to dismantle the Kellers’ plan, when they were just being  _ them,  _ Peter and Miggs, showing Miggs that sort of affection would  _ change  _ things between them, in a way that Peter wasn’t sure they could ever come back from.

So instead he pulled back, stopped touching his friend like he wanted nothing more than to worship his skin that looked like the sun was blooming on it.

After a minute, Miggs sat up and turned to look at him, face full of apprehension, clearly braced for rejection, ridicule, the same fear that had been reflected in Peter written all over his features. Peter’s heart throbbed, and after a second, he pulled out his notebook to write Miggs something.

**_I’ve been profoundly deaf since birth. Only got the aids when I was twenty-five._ **

Peter held the notepad out to Miggs, who read it and then slowly took the pen and pad from Peter. Writing his own note, Miggs’ neat print joined Peter’s looping one on the page.

**_When I was 27 I interned at a company called Ridgetechs Amalgamated Research. There was an accident, I got hurt. Crippled me for three years. Only been walking unassisted since about six months before I met you._ **

Miggs held the note out, dropping his hands to his lap when Peter took it. Peter let out a soft sound when he realized that Miggs had probably been in a wheelchair, had viewed himself as broken as well, in a way, for some period of time, and probably still did. And he’d chosen to share that vulnerability with Peter, probably a touch out of guilt, but also out of trust.

Peter didn’t realize he was smiling until Miggs gave him a funny look, mouth pursing to say  _ what?  _ Peter shook his head and then reached over to knock Miggs’ arm out from under him, letting the vulnerable moment between them pass in favor of watching Miggs fall back into the water.

Miggs managed to throw water everywhere when he sat back up, sputtering and gasping, looking outraged and beautiful, hair heavy and clinging to his face, seawater running over his skin in a way that had Peter wanting to lick him clean, despite the detrimental effects of consuming salt water.

Miggs said something and Peter didn’t catch it, but the look on his face was enough to start Peter laughing again, and for once he didn’t even care how it sounded.

Peter gasped when Miggs tackled him, sending them rolling into the surf, the two of them quickly devolving into a wrestling match. It was a lot like when they fought as nemeses, when Peter managed to get Mystery on the ground, straining and pushing against each other, rolling around in the water until they were both thoroughly soaked and exhausted.

They came to rest lying on their backs in the shallow water, staring up at the dark sky dotted with stars. It was painfully quiet to Peter, but it was lessened in discomfort by the warm line of Miggs’ body next to his.

After a second, Miggs sat up suddenly and turned to look at him, and Peter lifted an eyebrow, curious at the strange look on his friend’s face.

_ Can you swim? _ Miggs asked, and Peter stared at him before nodding, glancing towards the open expanse of the ocean. Did Miggs expect them to go swimming fully clothed? They were already tired, and that would get exhausting quickly.

Miggs leaned over Peter, following Peter’s gaze for a moment before turning to look at him, a little wicked grin starting to spread over his face that had not only Peter’s interest piqued, but his libido was sitting up and taking notice of the spark in Miggs’ eyes as well.

Miggs tucked some of his wet hair behind his ear, leaning in close enough that Peter began to wonder if Miggs was going to kiss him.

_ Come with me _ , Miggs said, eyes soft and a touch pleading, and Peter nodded immediately, taking Miggs’ hand as he stood and pulled Peter to his feet as well. They shuffled their way out of the water and up the beach to where Miggs’ shirt was lying, then Miggs dropped his pants, turning to look at Peter.

It was dark enough that the starlight wouldn’t hurt Peter’s eyes, the hotel largely dark as well and not casting any light over the beach, so Peter took off his glasses and folded them up. Tossing them onto the sand and then pulling off his shirt, he followed Miggs’ example of stripping down to his underwear. Reaching the elastic of his boxers, Peter paused, looking up to see Miggs watching him, eyes on Peter’s hands by his hips.

Peter’s own gaze wandered, along Miggs’ wet skin, dark and freckled and breaking out in goosebumps despite the warm temperatures. His nipples were peaked and his briefs clung to him, making Peter’s mouth water a little.

Miggs hooked his thumbs in his underwear, pushing them down a bit, and Peter snapped his gaze to Miggs’ face in surprise, wondering if Miggs was actually going to take them off, surprised by how desperately he wanted Miggs to.

Miggs started speaking again, mouth curling around the words as a blush flooded his face.  _ You…you ever skinny dipped before?  _ Peter smirked and nodded, a rather adventurous youth and a few wild missions leading to more than one dip in a body of water with nothing on but his birthday suit.

_ I haven’t,  _ Miggs said, and Peter observed the nervous look on Miggs’ face, the blush spreading from his face to his chest. Peter grinned and pushed his underwear down to his ankles before he could change his mind.

Miggs’ cheeks darkened exponentially, mouth falling open as he stared at Peter, not managing to hide his gaze falling to Peter’s cock, thankfully soft. Peter would be a bit embarrassed if he’d gotten hard just watching Miggs undress when they were both soaked to the bone and covered in sand.

Miggs seemed to realize he was staring at Peter’s dick and quickly looked back up at his face, snapping his mouth shut and biting his lip.

_ Okay,  _ his mouth read, nodding for good measure and bending over to push his underwear to his knees and then kicking them off the rest of the way. Miggs straightened up to cross his arms over his chest, looking embarrassed and awkward.

Miggs had a nice cock, and Peter bit the inside of his cheek as he fought not to let his desire show on his face. Miggs glanced up at him shyly, and Peter hoped he hadn’t caught Peter ogling him, shooting Miggs a wink before tilting his head towards the water. Miggs nodded and quickly made his way down the beach. Peter followed, shamelessly watching Miggs’ ass as he walked before he made his way to waist-deep water.

Miggs turned around to face him, cheeks still dark and not looking directly at Peter if he could help it. Though it had been Miggs’ idea, Peter couldn’t help but wonder if this was a bad idea, if it was making Miggs uncomfortable.

They got to where Peter’s feet weren’t touching the bottom anymore, and then Miggs grinned at him before vanishing under the water. Peter dunked down to watch him, blinking to adjust his eyes to the faint sting of the salt, watching Miggs twist and kick beneath the gentle roll of the water before coming up for air. Peter surfaced as well, flicking his hair out of his face as Miggs turned to look at him.

Miggs said something, mouth moving around words, but Peter missed it, frowning. Miggs swam closer until he was right in front of Peter, wet and naked, lifting his head towards Peter’s hair.

_ You always got push back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it brush forward,  _ Miggs said, and Peter shrugged, pausing when Miggs hesitantly lifted a hand out of the water towards Peter. His expression was curious but hesitant, and when he gave Peter a questioning look, Peter nodded after a second, wondering what he wanted.

Miggs lifted both hands out of the water to tug them through Peter’s hair. Peter shut his eyes as Miggs carefully tugged and finger combed through Peter’s wet hair until it was curling forward over his forehead and over one eye. Peter blinked his eyes open to look at Miggs, who was staring at him, flushed and looking a little shy, mouth barely parting as he mumbled something. Peter tilted his head and frowned, but Miggs just shook his head.

Peter inhaled sharply when a wave pushed them towards shore and Miggs ended up pressed against Peter from collar to knees. Peter wrapped his arms around Miggs automatically, hands cupping his naked hips and sliding to the small of his back, holding him close. Miggs felt hot compared to the water, skin burning against Peter’s wherever they touched, and Peter bit his lip, fighting the urge to move his grip down to Miggs’ ass, to pull him closer, start rutting against him, lean in to kiss that mouth, bite the lip Miggs was currently nibbling on nervously.

Peter’s will to not have Miggs in every way a husband could broke, eyes falling half shut as he slowly ducked his head, trying to get Miggs to look up so he could kiss him. He  _ wanted,  _ and Miggs was right  _ there,  _ naked and warm in his arms, and Peter couldn’t care one iota about O.W.C.A. or their cover or any other damn thing but touching Miggs.

And then Miggs pushed him away, and Peter gritted his teeth against the sting of rejection as Miggs didn’t look at him, mouth awkwardly fumbling around words Peter could just barely catch.

_ We—get back—four— _ something, Peter wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyway, and Miggs started swimming for shore, leaving Peter to follow. With a sigh, he did so, wishing he’d never put Miggs in this situation in the first place, where he felt uncomfortable just looking at Peter. Losing Miggs was something he’d hoped to avoid, but Peter knew better. 


End file.
